


Fic prompting game: I'd describe myself as gingersexual

by AlbieGeorge



Series: AlbieG's ill-advised fic prompting game [5]
Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: ALL THE CRACK, Crack, Drabble, M/M, don't blame me blame the prompter, even more terrifying threesome, more weird pairings, prompting game, sexy gingers, terrifying pairsome, the crackiest thing i've ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 19:07:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14243835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlbieGeorge/pseuds/AlbieGeorge
Summary: The final drabble from my fic prompting game.  And what a doozy of a prompt, which I will leave here in its entirely."Please please give me Tim Southee/Jonny Bairstow, featuring: Oops I slept with the opposition, Jimmy Neesham DEFINITELY shirtless, and a sock with a hole in it. (If you can shoehorn in the pairing of Timmee/His hand I will love you forever.)"





	Fic prompting game: I'd describe myself as gingersexual

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Angels_in_Fishnets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angels_in_Fishnets/gifts).



It had all started during the first test, when Tim had followed his natural instincts and stood far too close to Jonny Bairstow while awaiting a DRS decision.  He'd realised in that moment that 1) England were really, genuinely bad at DRS referrals, and 2) Jonny Bairstow smelled lovely.

He'd gone into full flirtatious Timmy mode straight after the close of play, a tactic which didn't usually work, even on Trent.  But Jonny had lapped it up, exchanging flirtatious looks, then hotel room numbers.  Tim decided at that point that it was good that someone had finally realised that he was indeed the most irresistible man known to humankind.

Later, Tim sat on the edge of his bed, the unfamiliar sensation of nervousness tickling his belly.  He looked down at his feet on the hotel room carpet, and noticed that he had a hole in his left sock.  He poked his big toe thoughtfully through it, wiggling it until the whole toe was peeping through, and then peeled off both socks and threw them into an open kit bag.  Who wears socks to a booty call, anyway?

Soon, there was a knock at his hotel room door.  Tim sprang to his feet eagerly, bounding to the door in three long strides and pulling it open enthusiastically.  Bairstow was there, ginger and smouldering, an amused yet suggestive look on his face.  Within what seemed like seconds, they were entwined on the bed, and Jonny was pulling his t-shirt off to reveal a pale yet study chest that Tim couldn't help but put his hands on.

Jonny was just figuring out the logistics of extracting Tim from his underwear when another knock at the door startled them both into freezing.  Much to Tim's disdain, Jonny got up and headed off to answer it.  When he returned, he was not alone.

Jimmy Neesham stood next to Jonny - taller, narrower, but every bit as semi-naked.  Mischievous blue eyes examined Tim as Jimmy stood, wearing just a pair of gym shorts, scratching his ginger beard inquisitively.

The pair of them, a veritable squadron of auburn sexiness, climbed onto the bed.  Jonny resumed his work on Tim's underwear, while Neesham dipped his head to nibble at Tim's jawline, planting gentle but bristly kisses below his left ear.

"NEESH." Tim hissed between his teeth, "What the HELL are you doing here?  And when did you grow that terrible beard back?"

Jimmy chuckled and teased Tim's earlobe with his teeth.

"Beats me, Timmy." he said, "It's your sex dream."

Tim sat up, wide awake, with a gasp.  The hotel bed sheet clung to him with sweat, and he quickly shrugged it off in an attempt to forget the feeling of Jimmy's beard against his neck.

When he'd caught his breath and decided once and for all that he shouldn't eat cheese just before bedtime, he decided not to attempt to forget the feeling of Jonny's hand exploring beneath his underwear.

Instead he lay back in bed and looked at his own hand, outlined against the pale yellow light of the streetlight outside his hotel room window.

"Well buddy, I guess it's just you and me again tonight.  Who knew we were into gingers, eh?"


End file.
